Save Me Grace
by Vita Fidens
Summary: Molly Parker finds herself followed home one evening by a group of men with ulterior motives. Once the truth is revealed, events are set into motion that will change three lives forever.
1. Chapter 1

Being stared at in the street was nothing new for Molly Parker.

When you're the daughter of the town drunk; a no-good louse who would sell his own mother for a pint…well, you became accustomed to people watching your every move. You became accustomed to people speaking in hushed tones as you passed by them.

Squaring her shoulders, Molly continued forward bravely – although her pace picked up slightly. 'Stop being a silly goose, Molly,' she admonished herself. 'This is nothing out of the ordinary for you.' All the same, she glanced back to see that the three men who had started following her outside the general store were still behind her.

They were at a respectable distance, to be sure, but certainly still following. The flesh on the back of her neck began to crawl uncomfortably, and Molly had the sudden notion that this wasn't the usual brand of 'stare at the drunkard's daughter.' Something about these men, and how quiet they were being, felt incredibly off.

Her sense of unease only grew when she turned down the dirt road that led to her home. She knew all her neighbors, and these men certainly weren't a part of her neighborhood. Yet, they persisted in their pursuit.

Her mind began racing, and she started to consider her options. She could confront them, which would likely end in disaster. She could continue on her way home and see if they tried to gain access. She could go to a neighbor's and ask them to continue walking her home, and perhaps check the house for anything amiss when they arrived. However, by the time they set out, the men would more than likely be gone and she'd once again be subjected to gossip and scrutiny – not that it was anything new to her, but she did prefer not to call attention to herself.

Home was her best option. She hurried along, hoping that there would be more distance between her and the men – but when she mustered up the courage to glance back, they were closer than before.

A terrible gnawing sensation started in the pit of her stomach. She suspected that these men were meant for her, although she couldn't even begin to fathom why. She'd heard of random acts of violence occurring in surrounding areas, but surely that wouldn't happen to her?

She rounded the corner and caught sight of her home, a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding whistling past her lips. Only a few more moments, and she thought she would be safe.

Dean Ambrose watched the young girl pick up her pace yet again, and a small smile touched his mouth.

She knew that they were following her.

Thankfully, they had intended to be noticed this evening.

His…'employer' didn't take kindly to men ducking their financial responsibilities, and Thomas Parker was one of the worst offenders. If they scared his little lamb, perhaps he'd realize the gravity of the situation and pay up.

Personally, Ambrose could care less what the man did. In fact, he hoped that Parker continued ducking Mr. Barrett. Perhaps then his next errand wouldn't simply be about intimidation. Perhaps it would be a bit more enjoyably violent.

There had been a distinct lack of violence since he had arrived in London, and it was starting to wear on him. He'd left the states rather abruptly a year ago following his involvement in a bit of an unpleasant situation. He had managed to work his way into the bareknuckle fighting rings he'd sought out, but even that wasn't enough to satiate his appetite for pain – both giving and receiving.

At the thought of this less than desirable state of affairs, he felt his fists clenching beside his thighs and forcefully made the conscious effort to relax them. He mustn't get lost in his anger. He mustn't get carried away.

Not yet.


	2. Chapter 2

Wade Barrett sighed heavily, rubbing his hand against his forehead while the numbers in the book swam in front of his eyes.

He wished, for the millionth time, that he'd never gotten into the business of bookmaking.

It had seemed to be a logical enough progression. He was getting older, and his years of fighting had taken a nasty toll on his body. It seemed as if he awoke each morning with a new ache somewhere, and he was just barely in his thirties – far too young to have such complaints.

Unlike the men he often fought, who often declared that they would die inside of the ring, Barrett had elected to use his head. He turned his not-inconsiderable brain power to the notion of how he could live a more comfortable life without getting pummeled all the time.

After much consideration, he realized that he shouldn't be running from his bareknuckle past in order to make a new life – he should, instead, embrace it. After all, he was still ingrained enough into the rings that he could give carefully calculated odds. More often than not, these odds went handily in his favor. His reputation was such that he would be able to frighten his clients into paying him as necessary.

At least, that was what he had thought at the time he'd opened his books.

He tried, and failed, to keep his thoughts from turning to Tom Parker, the stupid old drunk who had been the bane of his existence these last few months. If all went according to plan this evening, that would be one thorn in his side he'd be rid of by the time the new day dawned.

He found himself glancing at the clock on the wall and wondering if he had made the right choice in sending Ambrose. The man was cold and would not be swayed by emotional appeals, but he could also be ruthless if something triggered his temper.

Wade would never admit this aloud, but on those occasions where Ambrose became violent…he feared him. The man was quite obviously a bit unhinged, and his propensity for and enjoyment of violence made him deadly. Not simply dangerous, but deadly.

Thankfully, he'd had the foresight to send along two of his best, McIntyre and O'Shaunessy. They would be able, most likely, to keep Ambrose in check and return with some form of payment, hopefully with minimal collateral damage done. But as he sat contemplating these things, Wade had a sinking feeling in his stomach that this would not be the way the story ended. Not with Ambrose involved; things were never that simple when he was around.

He found himself wearily massaging his temples. Remove one thorn, and another sprung into its place immediately. He tried to dismiss these thoughts; they would be a worry for another day in the not-terribly-distant future.

He simply hoped that everything ran along smoothly this evening and allowed him to put it off for just a bit longer.


	3. Chapter 3

Ambrose slowly continued on the path leading up to the gate of the Parker household before casually leaning on it and staring up. He watched a curtain flicker and couldn't suppress a smile.

The little lamb realized there was a wolf nearby.

Unable to resist, he quickly searched the annals of his memory and came up with the girl's name.

"Molly," he called in a sing-song voice. "Pretty little Molly, why are you hiding?"

Upstairs, Molly Parker pressed herself against the wall beside the window, mentally cursing. She simply _had _to see if they were still there a mere twenty seconds after she'd walked in the door. Stupid.

She glanced towards the stairs, hoping that the man's voice had awoken her father, but she heard no stirring. He'd been dead drunk, passed out on the sofa, when she'd arrived.

How helpful. Not that she'd expected anything different.

"Come on out and speak with me, Molly love," the man outside continued. She thought she could hear amusement in his flat voice, which was peppered with an accent she couldn't quite place. "I'm not going to harm you."

She didn't believe that statement for a moment.

The man gave an exaggerated sigh. "All right, Molly. If you won't come _out_, I'll just need to come _in_."

Ambrose hopped the gate with ease, unable to keep the smile from blooming on his face. His night had just become filled with infinite possibility, and the prospect excited him.

"No, Ambrose," the Scot said. "You know what we're here for, and it's not this. Get back out here."

He paused in his stroll towards the front door, the smile dropping from his lips and unfathomable anger welling up in his chest. He closed his eyes, twitching his head in a short 'no' motion before regaining his composure and turning back towards the two oafs that had accompanied him.

"We're here to intimidate. How can we do that from outside?" He asked, attempting to keep his voice controlled.

"We don't even know if he's in there," the Irishman said. "Drew's right. Come back this side of the gate."

He stood a moment, considering, before turning back and darting up to the window. To his absolute, unabashed joy, he could see Parker through the drapes, laid out on the sofa.

"He's in there," he announced gleefully. "Shall I ring the bell?"

The two other men shared an uncomfortable look. They knew that they had come here with the purpose of extracting money from Tom Parker – without violence – and that they should continue. However, the way Ambrose had begun acting made them fear that they wouldn't leave this place peacefully.

They were torn between their duty and their sense of morality when Ambrose tired of waiting and made the decision for them, pulling the cord to ring the bell.

Molly held her breath, unable to believe that they had such gall. She'd heard their conversation and while she understood little of it, she understood enough to know that her sod of a father had managed to make a mess of things yet again.

She heard him stirring now, grumbling at all the noise.

For one of the few times in her young life, she became angry enough at him to let him take his lumps. She remained upstairs while they rang the bell again, and then began pounding on the door.

"What?" Her father finally barked, accompanied by loud crashes that meant he was attempting to find his feet. "What do you want?"

"Let us in, Parker."

She heard the door being unlatched and opened, and footsteps immediately rushing in. She heard the hard thud of flesh on flesh, and her father cry out. Although she knew he deserved whatever was coming his way, she couldn't help but wince at the sound.

"We're here for Mr. Barrett's money," one of the men explained quietly. He sounded Irish. "You know you can't duck him forever, Tom."

"Got no money," her father replied, sounding sullen around his slurred words. "Take whatever you can find. I don't care."

Ambrose, who had been hoping to hear that, smiled as he flexed his fingers open and closed. He'd hit the man harder than he'd intended, but it felt good.

The other men glanced at him uneasily, but he didn't care. He immediately made his way up the stairs, looking for little miss Molly. His blood was up, and he found that he was angered by her lack of obedience. He had told her to let him in, and she simply hadn't done it. It wasn't a course of action she'd soon repeat once he…explained…to her the seriousness of her insubordination.

After he bounded up the stairs, he slowed and searched the area critically. Three doors led off of the hallway, and only one of them was shut. He grinned.

Making his way to the door, he very lightly ran his fingernails over the wood. "Molly," he called through the door, attempting to fill his voice with kindness. "One last chance, love. Come out here…or I'll have to come in."

He grinned wickedly when nary a peep came from the room beyond the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Molly froze on her bed, terrified. The men had come for her father, not her – why was this man persisting in his pursuit?

The doorknob rattled, and she slid herself back on the bed. Almost as quickly as it started, it stopped.

The man sighed. "Come on now, Molly May. I'm in no mood. Let me in like a good girl." The knob rattled again. "Or I will break this door down and you will beg for mercy."

In a swift moment of decisiveness, she stood and strode across the room. Hesitating only a second, she threw the door open.

The man grinning back at her wasn't at all what she pictured. He looked almost normal for a monster, although he was incomprehensibly tall and quite obviously very strong, judging from the way the fabric of his shirt strained against his arms.

"Miss Molly," he said after a moment of silence, giving her an exaggerated bow. "Such a pleasure to see you from the front."

"What do you want?" She asked, trying to sound brave. The rattle in her voice gave her away as a coward, and the way his smile widened she knew that he'd noticed.

He stepped towards her, and she immediately stepped back. His blue eyes began to dance happily, and his lips split open in a ghastly approximation of a smile. "Why, I want to come in," he said, stepping towards her again.

She tried to stand her ground. "Why?"

He laughed, although there was no joy in the sound. "You ask an awful lot of questions. Haven't you learned that a good woman keeps her mouth shut when a man wants something?"

Ambrose watched her nostrils flare with unexpressed anger, but she snapped her jaw shut all the same. Smart girl.

He made a show of stepping around her and entering her space casually, as if it belonged to him. He glanced back over his shoulder to see her profile outlined against the door. How a drunken fool like Tom Parker had managed to have such a pretty girl was unfathomable to him.

She turned her head away uncomfortably, and he realized that she was very aware of his eyes on her.

"You seem out of sorts," he said, turning his head away and studying her room. Not that there was much to look at; the place was barren, devoid of any personality. Disappointing.

She was quiet for several moments, and he turned back towards her and raised an eyebrow.

"It has been an odd evening," she finally replied.

He managed a dry laugh. "Yes, I suppose it has been for you." He took a few steps towards her. "As much as I'm enjoying chatting with you, dear, I must be about my business." He paused. "Do you have anything of value that I might bring back to my employer to pay your father's debt?"

She shook her head, but refused to meet his eyes. He stepped closer to her, leaving little space between them. She smelled like cinnamon.

"I must insist on the truth," he said slowly, bringing his hand to her chin to gently turn her face towards him.

"I have nothing," she replied, her deep brown eyes finally meeting his.

His lips twitched. "That _is_ a shame." In the brief moment of silence that followed, he made a decision that would alter her life forever.

Moving with frightening speed, he wrapped his hands around her waist and picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder. The girl cried out, and he waited to see if she would struggle. She did not.

"Seeing as you're the only thing of value in this house, Miss Molly, I would be remiss to not bring you back to my employer."


	5. Chapter 5

She started kicking at him halfway down the stairs, causing him to nearly lose his balance. He wrapped his arm around her waist more tightly and used his other arm to still her legs.

"Stop," he said simply, squeezing her forcefully before continuing his descent.

He reveled in the horror on the faces of his companions and did his best to maintain an even expression in spite of his amusement. "This is all I could find that was worthwhile," he said, making a show of jostling Molly on his shoulder. "Think Mr. Barrett will write off the drunken lout's debt in exchange?"

"Put that girl down," the Irishman said, attempting to sound authoritative.

"No," Ambrose replied, inwardly rolling his eyes at the other man's tone. "We were told by Mr. Parker to take what we could find. I found this pretty little thing, and I'll be taking her."

Molly looked to the Irishman, the one who had spoken against the lunatic, and tried to plead with him with her eyes. He sighed heavily and took a step forward, reaching for her hand to help her down. But surprisingly, this course of action was interrupted by her father.

"Man's right; Molly's fair game. Take her. Tell Barrett I'm done with him, and that now we're squared up as far as I'm concerned."

She felt profound anger swell up in her chest. "You useless sod," she growled, struggling against the man holding her. He tightened his grip momentarily, until he understood that she wasn't after him this time. Finally, he let her slide down his body to catch her feet.

He held her briefly around the waist, a small half-smile on his lips, before he released her.

She very slowly walked towards where her father stood, weaving on his feet. "I've taken care of you for years," she said in a low voice. "I've sacrificed my life to try and keep you from drinking yourself to the grave. I've sacrificed my chance at happiness to care for you, and this is how you elect to repay me?" Her hand reached out and slapped him swiftly against his mouth.

"I'll go to this Mr. Barrett," she continued, fierce joy rushing in her as she watched his face turn to shock and pain from her sudden attack. "Any other life is better than the one you have given me here."

She spun on her heel and quickly walked out the front door, fighting back tears of anger and betrayal.

Ambrose watched her go, resisting the temptation to rush after her immediately and shove her to the ground, lift her skirt, and take her on the front lawn in front of God and this shithole neighborhood of London. He thought of her body pressing against his as she found her feet; that electric moment where their eyes met and he knew that she felt the same wave of lust that he had. She may not know it yet, but in that moment _he_ knew that she wanted him.

If he gave in to his desire, however, Mr. Barrett would indeed be unhappy with him. It would have to wait.

It would not, however, have to wait much longer. He promised himself that much as he strode out into the night after his prize.


	6. Chapter 6

Wade glanced up at the clock, his brow crinkling into a thoughtful expression.

This process was taking entirely too long. They should have been back by now.

He resigned himself to the idea that something had gone wrong, and it had more than likely gone wrong at the hands of Dean Ambrose. His lip curled in an expression of distaste and he cursed softly under his breath. It had been a mistake to send him, and he'd known that – yet he'd chosen to ignore that gnawing instinct in his stomach and send the man.

He steeled himself for the worst possible news – Tom Parker was dead. He'd mouthed off at the wrong moment and Ambrose had simply winked him out of existence. Anything he heard below that horrific outcome would seem tame.

Despite his best efforts at preparing for the worst, he was still shocked when a triumphant Dean Ambrose led in a terrified-looking young girl with McIntyre and O'Shaunessy slinking behind them, obviously displeased with whatever this situation was.

Wade raised an eyebrow at Dean. "What is this?"

"Parker didn't have any money. He said to take anything of value. Allow me to introduce the only thing worth shit in his entire home, Molly Parker."

He studied the girl – she was pretty; long chestnut-colored hair and clear, pale skin with the slightest hint of ruddiness on her cheeks and lips. The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach only intensified.

"What am I supposed to do with a girl?" He asked Ambrose, who snorted derisively.

"If you have to ask, I feel sorry for your wife."

Wade glowered at him. "My wife is the reason I have no use for her," he snapped. "You'd best watch your tongue, Mr. Ambrose, or you might find yourself in a dire situation."

Ambrose didn't apologize – not that he'd expected him to – but he did shut his mouth.

"Ms. Parker," he said, attempting to be congenial, "I'm terribly sorry for this inconvenience. I'll have Mr. O'Shaunessy escort you home immediately."

He nodded back to Sheamus, who stepped forward and lightly took the girl's elbow, in spite of the furious glance Ambrose shot him. To Wade's great surprise, the girl stepped forward instead.

"Sir, might we have a private word?"

He attempted to keep his face smooth to conceal his interest as he waved the other men off. When the door to his study shut behind them, he offered her a chair.

"I don't want to return," she said boldly. "My father was willing to sell me off to pay his – I gather not inconsiderable – debt to you. I can work towards paying it off."

"Ms. Parker, I have no use for you," he said gently, watching her eyes fill with fear. "I'm afraid the only use I'd have would be to sell you to a brothel to attempt to recoup some of my losses, and I certainly don't wish to send you to that kind of life."

She glanced away briefly, biting her lip. He was shocked to see that she was considering that course of action. Things in her home must truly be horrific, he realized. He closed his eyes. Goddamnit. He couldn't send her back to that. Goddamn Ambrose for putting him into this situation.

"Can you cook?" He asked abruptly.

She looked back towards him. "Yes."

"Clean?" She nodded. "Sew?" She again nodded. He sat, tapping a long finger against his thigh before he finally sighed.

"You may stay and work in my home," he finally said, knowing that his wife would be most pleased – she had been nagging him to procure maid services for some time now. "You will perform household duties, and part of your pay will go towards paying down your father's debt to me. The other portion will be placed in an account for you to use when you leave my employ."

She blinked rapidly several times, and he could see she was fighting back tears. "Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me," he said dryly. "Thank Mr. Ambrose."


	7. Chapter 7

Molly could hardly believe her luck as Mr. Barrett escorted her towards a small bedroom in the back of the house. She clutched the linens he'd given her tightly, astounded at how soft they felt in her arms.

"There will, of course, be other duties you'll be expected to perform," she realized Mr. Barrett was saying and immediately began paying attention. "Would you be at all averse to learning how to patch up some common injuries?"

She shook her head quickly. If he'd asked her to bring down the moon, she would find a way.

"We keep odd hours usually, so you'll need to be prepared to be woken and start working very quickly. Respect my home and my wishes, and I'll respect you." He glanced back at her. "None of the men are allowed to touch you, do you hear me?" She nodded. "Don't let them give you any lines about how it's their right or privilege or any such nonsense, because it's not. Not unless you want it to be – in which case, it's none of my business. But if someone is bothering you, I should hear about it."

The girl nodded at him, and Wade realized he was probably rambling incomprehensibly. He'd seen the way that Ambrose had looked at her and wanted to nip that particular problem in the bud. He couldn't touch her, not unless she wanted him to do so. Gauging her reaction to him, he gathered that she didn't.

"You'll give her a bad notion of us, Mr. Barrett," Ambrose said from behind him. He turned to see the younger man leaning casually against the door to his kitchen, his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face.

Wade stared him down for a few moments. "_Most_ of the men are very well-behaved," he said carefully to Molly, although his eyes remained trained on Ambrose. "You shouldn't have any problems. But if you do, _I_ will deal with them."

Molly glanced back and forth between the two men, temporarily immobile. There was obviously something deeper between the two of them; something that was beyond her level of understanding at the moment. It had been initially apparent that they disliked each other, but this went further than dislike.

Just as the tension seemed to reach an unbearable point, where something _must_ happen – the man who had brought her here, Ambrose, turned to her and smiled. There was no joy in the expression.

"Sleep well, sweet Molly," he said in his gruff voice, giving her another exaggerated bow. "I'm glad you've joined our little…family."

She managed to force her lips into a small smile and briefly nod at him before glancing back at Mr. Barrett, who still glowered in his direction. She was acutely aware of Ambrose's eyes on her while Barrett's eyes were on him.

For the first time, she found herself wondering what she'd stepped into in this place, and if it might be worse than what she'd just left behind.

Gently, she reached out and lightly touched Mr. Barrett's arm. He looked back at her, surprised, and she mustered a smile. "You were showing me my room?" she reminded him gently.

"Of course," he replied, surprised at her directness. He gestured towards their continued path. "This way."

He glanced back at Ambrose and nodded in the direction of his office, feeling the smile on his face tighten. Apparently, his wish to be able to put off dealing with the man for another few days would not be granted this evening.


	8. Chapter 8

"It was just a bit of harmless fun," Ambrose insisted, rolling his eyes.

"Dragging a terrified girl out of her home in the middle of the night and trying to sell her into slavery is harmless fun for you?"

He fell silent, morose. "It worked out all right for all involved," he finally answered. "She got away from her louse of a father, who was doing God-knows-what to her, and you have a housemaid. Abigail will finally stop nagging you."

Wade snorted. "Oh yes, it worked out. Now instead of having money for Parker's debt, I get to pay his daughter to work for me. Truly, a sound financial decision." He stared at Ambrose. "Why did you really bring her?"

He noticed the man's shoulders twitch, and tried to pull back his expression of disgust.

"I wanted her," he finally said boldly, meeting the other man's eyes. "I hoped that you might ship her off to the brothel."

Wade closed his eyes and began massaging his temples. "Well that didn't work, did it?"

"No. But I _will_ find a way."

The tone in his voice forced Barrett's eyes open and he studied him shrewdly. "Why are you so fixated on her?"

Ambrose's lips curled back from his teeth. "She refused me," he answered. "She wouldn't let me in to her home. A common drunkard's daughter, thinking she's better than me…thinking she's above me in some way. It's a misguided notion that I intend to correct."

"Listen to me," Barrett broke in, tiring of this nonsense. "Let it go. Before your damned pride gets you thrown out of this circle. You must know how close you are to the edges of acceptable behavior. If things hadn't worked out as favorably as they had this evening, I would have been forced to take action against you. Don't make me do that, Dean."

He could see the other man's body tense and then still, his eyes filling with anger. "Do not," he continued, "let your temper get the best of you. You will regret it."

After a few terse moments, Ambrose looked away, swallowing hard. He hated that he still needed this bastard. All he really wanted to do in that moment was knock a few teeth down his throat, but he must gain control of himself. There were other considerations at play.

"Can I go?" He finally asked, attempting to look bored.

Barrett shook his head, looking weary, but waved his hand in dismissal. He knew that he hadn't gotten through to the man, and he knew that these problems would only continue. It was time for a new strategy.

Ambrose stood smoothly and walked out of the room swiftly, anger bringing a fluid grace to his long, lanky body. He paused at the front door, glancing down the hallway towards where Molly slept. He shook his head and shook those thoughts away. Not yet. Soon, in spite of the little lecture he'd received this evening…but not tonight.

Blissfully unaware of what her new life had in store for her, Molly slipped into her soft bed with fresh sheets and fell asleep with a smile.


	9. Sequel

Thank you so much for reading, reviewing, favoriting, following, tweeting ( VitaFidens) and letting me know that this story, while no Dean and Liz, still has your interest!

The next part is up and is entitled "You've Got an Evil Wicked Way About You." Things start to pick up a bit in this one. I hope you enjoy!


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